


It's Really Just One Thing That We Have in Common

by PacketofRedApples



Category: Se7en (1995)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 17:03:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacketofRedApples/pseuds/PacketofRedApples
Summary: Inspired by Saint Bernard by Lincoln





	It's Really Just One Thing That We Have in Common

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Saint Bernard by Lincoln

There were pictures stuck with tape to the wall. All of Tracy. Smiling and dearly devoted… The same Tracy that David went mad over for all those years. The one that he was missing more than anything in his life. His arms felt week and in need of her weight. He wished to press her form to himself and never again let go. Muttering apologies to her and sweet nothings, he would hold her for an eternity.  

Yet, lying in bed, as they hovered over the bed frame’s end, David looked away from them. Eyes wide open, they tremor from the strain. Not yet quite watery as the dream he had just awoken from was still fresh, but he feels weak. Pathetic. Foolish…

There are words he’s muttering right that instance, terrified and breaking down Becoming ever so manic with the way his body began to shake. He tried to suppress it, to hide it. But his jittering is too much and he envelops himself in his arms best he can. Holding on with all his force and shutting his eyes tight.  He sobs into his pillow, feeling regret wash over him. What an absolute spoiled brat he was, allowing himself this.

“What the fuck did I do…?” He mutters to himself, the blaming clear. He knew he made mistakes and they will not be forgiven. He knew, deep down—he is never again going to see her. This was the end of it all. His beliefs in that instance were inconsequential because even if there was an afterlife, she was a saint. Not him. Not him, at all.

“David?” The voice is soft as the other touches his shoulder gently. Caressing and attempting to calm the sobbing mess who instead just buries their face deeper into the bed sheets. God, Somerset loved him… The fucking old bastard stuck around through all of this, and Mills’ wasn’t even sure he could return that notion. He needed to learn to do this, and all these years were not enough.

David recalled it now, the fact that Tracy smiled knowingly at the two of them… But she probably didn’t imagine the extern this would go to. Just how much they would connect, even if just by one fucking thing. And it-- being her.  If you stretch hard enough, you might even say they also align on how alone they are now, but even so, it was because without her—they were nothing.

And he cries harder at the thought of her, same reassuring tone as hers ringing and ringing as he whines out louder.


End file.
